Making It through the Day
by lms2457
Summary: It's when she takes the time for the lunch he brings her that she first notices he's moved - hidden really - the app for the calendar on her phone. She finds it moved to the last page of apps on her system, placed in a folder by itself making the date on the screen almost but not quite too small to read. One shot.


**Making It through the Day**

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own it, and they're way more evil than me

**AN:** This little story is not betaed. I would not let my trusty Beta look at this one in advance, so please excuse any errors they are mine, and mine alone.

_For CB, who understands all too well. And for my other - my first - best friend: my grandmother. Every day spent without you is one too many. _

* * *

He brings her coffee and breakfast in bed, but he doesn't wake her with it, doesn't do anything but let the coffee do the work of bringing her around. It has one of those hearts in the foam that's he's perfected, the ones she always seems to fail miserably at when she tries to return the favor.

There is no paper on the tray, and the flower he sometimes lays on the it is white instead of red. It's a gentle reminder. A marking without remark. She smiles around the rim of her mug as she takes her first sip, just for him.

It's when she takes the time for the lunch he brings her that she first notices he's moved - hidden really - the app for the calendar on her phone. She finds it moved to the last page of apps on her system, placed in a folder by itself making the date on the screen almost but not quite too small to read.

When they fail to catch a body, he takes the paperwork from her pile, starts filling in the most mundane and automatic details for her, the names and dates. He hands them back for the detailed parts and they get a rhythm going. At some point the boys must catch on, because they come over and start taking small piles of her stack. Ryan stops talking about anniversary plans with Jenny.

When Gates catches on, she demands answers of Castle, who fumbles as he tries to explain. The boys rush in, making it worse by the moment, until she finally cuts in, her voice soft, but firm. "Guys, knock it off, okay? It's sweet, but I can look at the date on the calendar okay?"

The air around her goes still and silent. Her boys, the three of them, study their shoes. Gates studies _her_, until Kate turns to look her in the eye. Then she offers a subdued "Carry on," with her hand on Castle's shoulder.

She gets the email 15 minutes later, they all do, effectively ordering her team to take a personal day the next day, and not to come in until Monday. Kate thinks about objecting, she's saving her time for a honeymoon, after all, but Gates makes clear before she can raise the issue that she's just shifting the duty roster around. A gift to Ryan, who asked for the time, so it won't count against him.

It's not for Ryan, she knows. But she doesn't challenge it. At least Gates is letting her stay for the rest of the day, stay distracted. There's that. She usually calls in, but this year, she's glad she didn't.

Castle brings her an afternoon cup of coffee, then leans over her at her desk to murmur against her hair that he'll be back in an hour. She's surprised he's letting her be for that long, but only nods. Her eyes drift to the Captain's door - that was a bit close for working hours - but Gates has drawn the blinds.

He comes back in 45 minutes, resumes their earlier paperwork routine without comment. They never do get a body drop, and she's both relieved and annoyed by it when 5 PM rolls around. Castle helps her into her coat, and she wishes the boys a good, unexpectedly early weekend. When she tells Ryan to wish Jenny a happy anniversary from her, he looks guilty, but nods. She squeezes his shoulder, doesn't add to the conversation. Doesn't call him on it.

She figures out what he was doing in those 45 minutes when they hit the street and she spots his car at the curb. They'd come in with hers this morning, but she doesn't even bother suggesting they take it home. He opens the passenger door for her. He's driving.

He asks her if she wants food, says something about some gourmet hotdog place in the village, but he's been feeding her all day, and she's just not feeling it. He takes it in stride and without comment, starts driving. They don't head for his loft, and not for her apartment. She doesn't really notice at first, just lets the movement of the car distract her from the silence, and her thoughts.

They're maybe half an hour into the drive when she finally notices, when she finally figures it out. "Kidnapping, Castle? Really?" She's feeling lighter though. He's sweet.

He looks nervous when he answers. More than he should. "I just thought – some quiet and some open space. I thought it might help." He swallows like he's afraid he said the wrong thing.

She brushes her fingers over his hand in which he hopes he recognizes as gratitude. He glances her way, and she gathers up a soft smile, the best she can. Hopes it's enough. It's all she has today.

"I just thought," he continues. "Up at the house, you know. Since we have the weekend. Just - get out of the city, or -" He shrugs, looks back at the road.

His place in the Hampton's. Only, she realizes dimly that that's not what he said. Just, "the house," as if it's an ordinary everyday thing. As if it's something they hold in common. And then the thought occurs to her. They're getting married. And so, what feels common to him, big and grand as it is to her, it's about to be exactly that. Just a thing they hold in common. Wow. That's new. She swallows it.

"I don't have anything with me." But it's a statement, not protest, and she tries to make that come through as she says it.

He keeps his eyes on the traffic but gestures into the backseat. "Took care of it," he says.

She turns to find a bag for each of them there, surprised she didn't notice before. But she's not noticing much today, so maybe it's not that much of a surprise. Huh. He packed for her. Normally, she'd find it invasive. But she gets it. It's the day, what he's trying to do. Sweet man. She turns her eyes back out of the window, watches the world go by.

When they arrive, he leads her to the door with his hand at her back, gently guiding her forward. She lets him, because everything feels liquid and detached today, and she could use the anchor.

"I had the place opened and aired, and some groceries stocked, so we should be all set," he offers as he flips on the light at the front of the house. He's right, too. The place is warm, despite the cold night, and the wintery mix that seems content to swirl and drizzle through the night air.

She slips out of her coat as he continues turning on the lights on the first floor. "Anything I can do?" she asks.

"Nah," he comes back to her, dropping a light kiss on her hair. "I'll work on dinner, you just get comfortable."

She nods, takes her bag into their bedroom to change. When he comes looking for her, she's curled up on the top of the comforter reading. She's absorbed and it's one of his, older, but fresh of his bookshelf. She doesn't even bother to hide it. He never says a word about it, just tells her dinner is ready.

He's made her breakfast for dinner, pancakes. It brings a trace of a smile to her lips as she remembers Alexis telling her, years ago, that this was how her father cheered her up on a bad day. They don't say much as they eat, but midway through, she reaches out to take his hand. She squeezes his fingers lightly, the keeps them tangled there for the rest of the meal. It takes longer this way, but it doesn't matter.

She tries to help with the dishes, but he won't have it. So, she ends up standing on the deck, sheltered from the last of the weather's grip as she watches the moonlight play across the water whenever it drifts down through the swiftly moving clouds. It's peaceful here. Beautiful. And she's so very grateful for this. For him.

It isn't until he comes for her, wrapping his arms around her from behind, that she realizes how cold she is. They don't last long outside after that.

The plan is to end the night with mindless entertainment. A movie for distraction. But she ends up talking as he searches for a DVD. He stops to listen, and it goes on for hours then, in the semi darkness. She talks and he listens, to stories about growing up, about her mom. Eventually, she drifts off into quiet semi-wakefulness, lulled, but not quite gone.

When clarity finds her again, she shifts her eyes from the clock on the DVD player to his face. And then, she kisses him, slowly. "Thank you," she says, "for today."

A few moments later, the clock changes over. It's 12:01 am, January 10.


End file.
